Sit tight Mitch did, zoning out as his brain made a feeble attempt at processing whatever they had discussed for the last 15 minutes. A slight tremble had overtaken his body, presumably due to the ongoing combination of no sleep and no food. He took steady breaths to ground himself from the lightheadedness that had been a recent nuisance.

Avi returned with a glass of water in one hand and an icepack in the other. The ice pack was applied to his shoulder, but Avi’s hand stayed on it. “I can hold that,” Mitch informed him, but regretted speaking up; his palms were hot and tingling from the energy he had exerted earlier, and the temperature contrast from the ice burned. While the intense cold gave him something to focus on, which he needed, the symptoms lingered in the background

“Great. Got you this, too.” Avi set the glass down on the side table. “There’s electrolyte powder in it, but it doesn’t have any taste. Figured you could use the nutrients.”

Mitch frowned. “I’m not doing this on purpose,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t say you were,” Avi raised both of his hands, as though he was trying to placate a wild animal. “But I can’t train you until you start eating. That’s the deal. Until then, copay’s still on.”

“Fuck!” spat Mitch. He let go of the icepack, grabbed the glass and took a sip. The texture was both gritty and slimy, and there was an odor that did not agree with him, but he swallowed it regardless. Though he wanted nothing more than to drink it all in one gulp and slam the glass down, his body wouldn’t allow for that, so he continued to sip until the amount had visibly decreased. “I hate this!” He lamented, temporarily forgetting who was present and the restraint that he had been exercising up until then. His head hung low as let out a pitiful, “I fucking hate this so much! I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

He barely noticed that the glass that was taken away, or that ice pack was readjusted on his shoulder, or that Avi had crouched down in front of him. “Hey man,” Avi’s voice was soft.

“What?” Mitch sniffed, unwilling to look at him.

“You did great today. We’ll do more stretches tomorrow, OK? But I’m gonna reattach the sling now.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Mitch let out a self deprecating laugh.

“You did so much,” Avi insisted as he put the straps and buckles in place. “I promise, you were great.”

“If you say so.” Everything was clipped and tightened, and Mitch tested it by trying to wiggle his arm, but it hardly budged.

“I do.” Avi stood back up and stretched, while Mitch continued to keep his head low, determined to only focus on the way that his insides churned from the neglect they were going through. “So,” Avi’s voice transitioned from assurance to something more familiar and amiable. Mitch looked up enough to see a small bit of his hip exposed from the way that his ill-fitting shirt rode up, and immediately resumed staring at the floor. “I’ve got a shift at the school this afternoon. You wanna tag along and hang out with everyone?”

“No, I…I’ve gotta finish writing this article I’ve been stuck on. Deadline’s tomorrow,” Mitch stuttered, needing solitude or fresh air or something to clear his head.

“Alright. Well, I’ll catch you later, then?”

“Later. Yeah.” He waited until Avi had left the room before he rubbed his aching chest, silently praying that there were antacids somewhere in the house.